


White As Snow

by bookwyrmling



Series: Seasons of Life [1]
Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: F/M, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrmling/pseuds/bookwyrmling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki finds Doumeki's first white hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White As Snow

Growing taller than Watanuki had been one thing, because, while a constant reminder that Watanuki had given his time up, it was not a steady reminder of Doumeki’s own age. He was always growing, after all, had been growing back when Watanuki was, too. And then he stopped growing and that large height gap remained unchanged and it was easy to forget he was growing older and Watanuki wasn’t. Life continued, yes, and Doumeki married and had children – children born for Watanuki’s sake far more than his own – but it was all simply life, not age, and Doumeki took the amount of time life took up for granted.

Until, one day, Watanuki reached out with a smirk and plucked out one of his hairs.

Doumeki winced at the sudden sharp pain, but made no other sign of his discomfort as his attention turned, instead, to the strand Watanuki now held up between them.

It was white. Pure white.

Watanuki teased him about aging and wrinkles and unattractiveness and walkers and senility, but Doumeki put down his whiskey as he continued to stare at the hair and his mouth went dry.

Doumeki left the shop early that day, one hand gripping sweaty on his briefcase, the other one, shaking, jammed into his coat pocket. He could not calm down. The moment he stepped past the gateposts and out of sight, Doumeki pulled the shaking hand from his pocket and pressed hard against his chest. There was a pressure there and an anxiety that he could not release or swallow down and it hurt like a physical blow to the sternum. Even the walk home through the wintry late evening to the shrine or stepping once more onto the holy grounds could not shake the sensation that that earlier anxiety had somehow wrapped around his chest and was squeezing, slowly cutting off his breath, until he stumbled on the doorjamb and fell to his knees right inside the front door, hand still pressing against the restriction, gasping for any air he could take in.

“Shizuka!” Kohane cried in fear as she rushed up to drag him over to sit at the genkan’s lip. “Shizuka, what’s wrong? Can you breathe? Are you in pain? I’m calling an ambulance.” The moment she tried to move away, Doumeki reached out with his other hand and grabbed her arm, pulling her back with an unconsciously bruising grip as he buried his head in between her shoulderblades and continued to try to breathe because it was too much. Because he was aging and Watanuki still looked like the same fucking high schooler that had come at him with a flying kick down the school stairs their first year. Because Doumeki was suddenly made conspicuously aware that his time would run out long before Watanuki’s and, one day – not tomorrow or even ten years from now, but someday – he would not be there to help him and to protect him and that day was drawing always inexorably closer.

“Shizuka!”

There was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Shizuka!”

He was too weak.

“Shizuka!”

Doumeki realised with a start that there was pain laced into his wife’s voice now and he instantly released her arm, shaking his head to both apologize and tell her he was fine.

He wasn’t fine.

He would be fine. Eventually.

Kohane turned around and wrapped her arms around him, holding her husband until his breathing equalized and the panic attack subsided, leaving him in an exhausted state, but finally able to stand up and move to the sofa for recovery.

She brought him tea and then disappeared. Fifteen minutes later, when his breath, heartrate and blood pressure were all under control and the shaking and cold sweats were a thing of the past even if the anxiety still had not fully disappeared, Doumeki found her on the phone in the kitchen, one hand clenched knuckle-white on the phone, the other twisted into her apron.

“Kimihiro-kun!” Kohane scolded, sounding every bit the mother she now was, “Kimihiro-kun, how could you? We know we can’t always be with you. We know that time is drawing closer. But do you need to remind us like that? I thought Shizuka was having a heart attack!” Doumeki could not see the tears he knew were falling down Kohane’s cheeks, but he could hear the sobs and see the way her shoulders shook in suppressed agony and anger.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to!” she cried next and, figuring she had not realized he was here, Doumeki stepped up behind the woman, setting his empty mug on the counter in front of her.

“Ah, Shizuka.”

It was always amazing the way Kohane could change tones at the drop of a hat – very much like Watanuki had done when they were, no, when he alone was younger – and Doumeki raised an eyebrow at her as she covered the mouthpiece. “You look better,” she offered and Doumeki nodded. He felt better. Still not up to par, but better.

“Eh?” Kohane’s attention shifted back to the phone and the shopkeeper on the other end of the line, her hand falling from the receiver before she nodded. “Kimihiro-kun wanted to speak with you,” she explained while holding the phone out.

“You bullied him,” Doumeki teased, to which she only smiled a mischievous smile before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Someone has to,” she teased back before leaving her husband to his conversation.

“You’re getting delicate in your old age,” Watanuki’s juvenile voice sang from the earpiece with a snicker.

“Watanuki,” Doumeki chastised. He did not need to hear any more about his age. Not right now.

“I’m sorry.” Doumeki blinked at the honest apology coming from the shopkeeper and his silence must have been enough that Watanuki felt the need to continue, “Truly, I apologize, Doumeki. I didn’t realize it would have that strong of an effect.” It had been a jest, Doumeki knew as much, but sometimes Watanuki’s distance from the world began to show in his inability to interact with others as well as he used to. His references were outdated at best and common courtesy was hit or miss when he was not in his professional mask.

“You have more time, though,” Watanuki added, trying to console him, “Many more years ahead of you.”

“But not as many as you,” Doumeki reminded and the heavy silence of the conversation returned.

“No,” Watanuki agreed after a few beats. “No, you don’t,” he repeated, but this time with conviction rather than confusion, “And that is good.” Doumeki could hear the smile on the man’s face on the other side of the phone – the lazy smile that seemed to know it all with half-lidded eyes hiding truths of their own, “Humans are not meant to live forever.” Doumeki grimaced, the inside of his mouth tasting sour as it always did when Watanuki took on his shopkeeper persona in front of him.

“You have your family, Doumeki,” Watanuki continued, his voice lilting and Doumeki realized he was smoking, “and, when it is your time, you will go surrounded by all of them.” Doumeki sometimes wondered if Watanuki regretted his own longevity or if he would be better off with that egg tucked into his and Kohane’s unmentionables for safe keeping, but the man could be inscrutable when he so wished.

“You won’t be there,” Doumeki pointed out, instead.

“You’ll have Kohane-chan to hold your hand,” Watanuki replied cheerily. It would help, yes, but…“I’ll be here, drinking to you.” Doumeki frowned. Watanuki should not be alone. But, when his time came, there was nothing he could do about that anymore.

“But Kohane-chan scolded me about this topic so tomorrow we’ll open the second best bottle of whiskey,” Watanuki barreled on, steamrolling his own emotions in an effort to keep the situation light, “I told Kohane-chan I’d prepare your family’s osechi this year, too, so you’ll have to stop by New Year’s Eve to pick it up-”

“No.”

Watanuki paused. “No?”

“We’ll eat at the shop,” Doumeki decided, “With you.” It was sudden. They would have to cancel already made plans. But, right now, Doumeki believed it to be for the best, even if it was likely Watanuki would turn his attempt down.

“Then I shall prepare the o-toso instead of just tososan, as well.”

It was Doumeki’s turn to pause this time and he pulled the receiver away from his ear to stare at it, second guessing if his hearing was not beginning to go, as well, before finally pulling it back against his ear. “The price isn’t too high?” he asked, knowing Watanuki created the tososan for the well-being of those he cared for – receiving it for his family had always been a great honor and Himawari and her husband looked forward to it every year – but recognizing the alcohol itself was usually a common price for it, along with gratitude and other New Year tidbits. For Watanuki to do this much meant there was a high price to pay. Because of Doumeki’s earlier reaction?

“No,” Watanuki rebutted, confirming Doumeki’s belief that the shopkeeper’s more amenable conversation was due to a perceived debt, “It comes out just about even.”

“Then we will all see you on New Years.”

“Of course,” Watanuki smiled and Doumeki heard enough in his voice to tell this smile was a real one, “I’m looking forward to seeing the kids.”

It was only with Kohane’s return and guidance that Doumeki was able to put the phone back on the cradle.

“It will probably be funny,” she broke the tense silence, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, “twenty years from now, when your hair is all silver.”

Doumeki was absolutely certain he would never find the reminders of his aging funny, but he did not say that out loud. The way Kohane’s fingers clenched into his jacket fabric told Doumeki he did not need to.

“Your arm?” he asked as he looked at the offending hand that had dared harm her.

“It’s fine,” she brushed off, leaning around to smile up at him in reassurance, “Not even a mark.” When Doumeki turned to confirm as much for himself, Kohane’s hands immediately went to his blazer’s lapels. “What say we get you out of your jacket and tie and I’ll make tea for both of us,” she offered, “The kids are out for the evening and we don’t get too many nights without them, so we might as well enjoy it.”

Doumeki did not answer aloud, but he did not need to. He allowed Kohane to slip off his blazer as his hands slipped up to loosen his necktie. When he left the kitchen with them both, Kohane was already heating up enough water for two.

**EXTRA**

Watanuki waited with baited breath until the click sounded on the opposite end of the line before placing his own receiver in its cradle with a shaking hand. His other, clenched and pressed firm against the table’s surface, pushed him backwards, across the hall until his back touched the opposite wall.

An equal price? Yes, the store seemed to agree – not that Watanuki needed to confirm prices with the store often anymore. The Jorougumo was correct in that he did not need his glasses anymore if he solely wished to see with his power. Even with his glasses on, the two worlds – spiritual and corporeal – blended together, changing the way he saw both. It was why he had been so surprised at catching sight of that singular sign of age and reached out to pluck it. He had not been sure it was real at first, and then, when he had confirmed it, his knee jerk reaction had been to fall back on teasing. Because otherwise it hurt, this realization that he was being left behind, that he was different. That he was no longer human.

An equal price? Yes, as high as it was. Because, out of his selfishness, Watanuki had done something he would never admit to Doumeki. His fist uncurled and, within the now open palm, lay a single white hair. A memento he would gladly pay an equally valuable price for. The company of the Doumeki family on New Years was just as great a treasure, as well.

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful and talented chronologiical drew a comic based on this story. You should totally check it (and her other pieces) out! http://chronologiical.tumblr.com/post/139489324220/i-did-a-little-comic-based-on-this-fic-by


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